Go On, I Dare You
by MyHeroRaven
Summary: I didn't understand why he was so mad. I had just spilt my glass of milk at the dinner table. It was just milk. Maybe it was really expensive milk and I didn't know it. But I was 8-years-old and I didn't understand any of it.


**Title: Go On, I **_**Dare**_** You**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Big Time Rush. **

**A/N: This is based off of things that have actually happened in my life and things that still happen. My girlfriend is worried sick about me so I'm trying to get my feelings out by telling you parts of my story in this fic. **

**I wrote about Carlos because I can relate to him the most. So this is Carlos' POV. But really it's mine. I know I shouldn't have written this, but I need to get it off my chest so here it is, I guess. **

**Oh and Carlos' father's name is Miguel... my father's name is Michael. It was the closest I could get. **

**The things that I've gone through are hard but everyone keeps telling me they're here for me, even when life at home hurts so bad. So this is my past when it comes to my family and my present. But I'm going to try and let it go, I'm going to try and keep going because even though its hard life is so beautiful and I have so much waiting for me in the world. So this is me... Courtney, I acknowledge my past but it will not rule me. **

**Go On, I **_**Dare**_** You:**

**Age 8**

"Scream... go on, I _dare_ you." Those words sunk into my skull piercing everthing. I didn't understand why he was so mad. I had just spilt my glass of milk at the dinner table. It was _just_ milk. Maybe it was really expensive milk and I didn't know it. But I was 8-years-old and I didn't understand any of it.

Maybe I was wrong? Maybe I was a bad person. Spilling milk made me a bad boy.

That was the first night daddy hit me. I begged him to stop and I said I was sorry. I even said the magic word, but it meant nothing to him.

It never would.

**Age 12**

I was always a little prankster. For as long as I could remember I liked to play pranks on people, even though it would get me into the worst sort of trouble and my friends got annoyed. But I stopped pranking, and my friends always asked me why.

I told them it was because I wanted to grow up and that pranks were for kids. When really I pranked my dad and he freaked. I'd never prank again after what he did to me.

I had taken to putting a rubberband around the hose in the sink, so that whenever you turn the faucet on it would spray you from the hose. I thought it was funny, and it was just water right?

Well one day I was in the kitchen grabbing a glass of water, I had stopped drinking milk along time ago because I always spilled it and got beat for it. And I had forgotten that I had put the rubberband around the hose.

So one minute I was holding a glass of water and the next I was slammed into the fridge door and sprawled on the floor. My dad was above me kicking and punching me, screaming worthless words to a worthless person. I tried to get away but he knocked me backwards so that my head collided with the hot oven. It burned and I ran, ramming into the wall and leaving a dent that would be there to this day. I heard him screaming from the stairs...

"Tell your mother, go on, I _dare_ you!"

I never told mom, dad told mom. Whether it was because he felt guilty or whatever I'll never know but he told her.

So mom came up to my room later that night. She told me that I needed to keep dad happy and not make him mad like that. She said: you don't make him mad, and he won't hurt you.

But it was just water...

Right?

**Age 18**

I was about to leave home for the boy I loved for than anything. I knew we would last, I had loved James since we were little and now that I was 18 we could leave, we could actually be together and it would be amazing. It would be so great. And I was so happy, nothing could have ruined my mood that day.

Except my father.

He told me I would never amount to anything and that leaving home for a boy was stupid and would ruin my life. He told me that James was a no good loser. A bum, dead-beat. Just like me. But he wasn't! I told myself again and again that I loved him.

But my father's voice in the back of my head festered and it messed me up.

"He'll never love you, who could ever love you. So leave home, go on, I _dare_ you."

And I did. My father was right... he never loved me. James left me alone. And for three years I had to endure ridiculous lies and hurtful words from my father.

From my _father_.

**Age 21**

Now I'm 21-years-old. I live at home and I work. I have a small job at a food place. And for the last 3 years all that Miguel had said to me was violent and cruel words.

The way his tongue slithered out of his mouth when he was mad, was engraved into my brain. The anger he had towards me was scary. He saw the cuts on my arms and he _knew_. So he started to help the process along a little.

One time I was sitting at the table eating, and he walked over and sat down across from me, butcher knife clenched in his huge hands. Smiling slyly he pushed it across the table.

"This is for you, in case you want to off yourself. You know that no one loves you. Your mother and I hate you, so why don't you do the world a favor and die? Go on, I _dare_ you."

I tried.

I lived though and he continued to egg me on, little things. He didn't dare hit me though, I was 21 over the legal age. I would press charges if he ever touched me again. And he fucking knew it too.

Miguel got worse... I started dating someone very special. I had been talking to him online, he was my hope and light when I was lost in the dark.

His name was Logan.

My grandmother became ill and I broke down to Logan on line, told him that I loved him. I asked him to: be mine?

He said yes. I've been with him ever since. He's made me so happy, and we were born to be together. But Miguel is still there. He's still sleeping in the room down the hall as I write this. He's still a very bad man.

I'm living with a monster.

And I'm waiting for the day when he snaps, when he pushes me too hard and I fall backwards. Head cracking into the marble island in the kitchen, and then I'm dead. It would be an accident. At least that's what he'd say.

It would only take: one. little. push.

And I would be dead. Forever not breathing. Leaving behind the love of my life and everything that's ever made me have hope.

He tells me he doesn't love me, and it's heart-breaking not only because he doesn't love me but because I _know_ he did once. But now, all of a sudden he doesn't. So I'm sitting here 21 year-old pondering the biggest question of my whole life: how can a parent not love a child? Especially one he chose? I was adopted. They _picked_ me. But now I was the runt of the litter and they were wishing they could return me. Money-back-guarantee.

So I'm waiting for the day when he snaps and kills me. But then sometimes I think... I should kill myself, save Miguel the trouble of having to do it. That scares Logan and he cries. So I don't. I hold on, for him, for _us. _

And here I am sitting here, trying to live my life right and I hear his voice from when I'm 8. When I'm 8 and I just spilled the milk at the dinner table and he's hurting me saying:

"Scream... go on, I _dare_ you."

**P.S. Well I guess that got everything off my chest. You don't need to review this, it's just me getting my heart out of my chest and onto my sleeve. **

**I love you baby. **

**MyHeroRaven**


End file.
